Page 44 of Bitter Sweet Heart

“Do you mean hard, Clover?”

She gives me the stink eye again before she closes it.

I snicker, finding this entire situation beyond hilarious. “You’re wearing a sports bra. There’s cleavage, and you just made me bleed. It’s fuckin’ hot. You want to grab me some tissues so I don’t ruin this shirt?”

“Oh my God.” She rushes out of the room.

I take the opportunity to rearrange my hard-on, tucking it into the waistband of my boxer briefs so it’s not acting like a divining rod when I stand up.

Less than a minute later, Clover returns, wearing an oversized, paint-covered shirt, and drops to the floor beside me. “Let me see.” She gently pries my hand away. “Do you think your nose is broken?” She cups my face between her palms, inspecting my nose. Her bottom lip is between her teeth.

“It’s not broken. I might have a sweet pair of black eyes tomorrow, but I’m fine.”

“How can you be sure? Should you see a doctor? Maybe I should get you some ice.”

I grab a few tissues from the box beside my hip. “I’d know if it was broken. Ice isn’t going to do anything. You can kiss it better if you want, though.” I smirk at her disapproving frown.

“I can’t believe you’re flirting with me while you’re bleeding!”

“You’re a sexy badass, and I already told you, it’s a compulsion.”

“This wasn’t a good idea.” She sits back on her heels. “I can’t keep a level head with you.”

“So why try?”

“You’re my student.”

“And you’remystudent until you’re done with self-defense,” I counter. “I’ll even give you private lessons from now on.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Then what am I doing here, Clover?” I can see her pulse hammering in her throat, see the battle she’s fighting.

She clasps her hands and drops her head, staring at her lap. “I’m in a position of power. It’s unethical.”

“I think that’s semantics. We already leveled that field a while ago. Anyway, what happens at the end of the semester, when you don’t have that excuse to hold on to?”

“You’ll still be a student, and I’ll still be a professor.”

“I’m not asking for anything serious. And I’ll probably end up in Nashville after graduation, depending on how things go. We already know we have chemistry. I feel it every time I look at you. And there’s this pull. It’s different. Not like anything I’ve experienced before.”

“Because it’s taboo. I’m your professor.”

“What’s going on here existed before, when we were in your cabin. If this was seven months from now, and I’m playing for whatever fucking team decides to try to replicate my dad’s legacy with me, who would be in the power position then?”

“It’s not that simple.” She seems so torn.

“Isn’t it, though?”

“This . . .” She motions between us. “I don’t know how to handle it any better than you do. I felt awful on Monday, and then yesterday when you didn’t show up for class?” She shakes her head, her expression imploring. “I need you to help me keep the boundaries in place, at least until the end of the semester, Maverick. Because I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

That piece of truth is more than I expected. I nod once. “Okay. I get it if you need to wait until I’m not your student. I’ll stay inside your lines—at least until the semester is over and my final grades are handed in. Then we can reassess.”

I push to a stand and bring the T-shirt back to my nose when I feel blood trickle down my chin. “I’m going to go. I’ll hold onto this and give it back to you when it’s not covered in my blood anymore. You can have my hoodie as collateral.” I nod to the red hoodie with my team logo on it. “I’ll see you in class. Hopefully mine before yours.”

Fourteen

Slippery Slope

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